The Care and Keeping of Schultz
by animal2134
Summary: Ever wonder how the lovable guard got to be so lovable?


The Care and Keeping of Schultz

You know those times when you just lay in bed and think? I love times like those. Morning roll call got cancelled today on account of 'ol Klink having a cold. I might make him a card or something later. Anyhow, I just wriggled myself under my blanket and I was snug as a bug in a rug. Listening to the steady breathing and occasional snores around me I let my mind do whatever it wanted to do. It wandered around a bunch of topics that I like, and landed on the subject of Schultz, our roly-poly guard. I thought it was a little strange that my brain wanted to think about him, but I indulged. I figure my brain and I need to be pretty good friends and if I don't give in to it once in a while we might no longer be on speaking terms. That'd get me in trouble. What would a fellow do without a brain? Anyhow Schultz isn't a bad sort of guy, he just happens to be wearing the wrong uniform. But nobody's perfect. It's funny how your enemies can become your friends. I remember one time back home, this bully at school kept bothering me, and so my friend Bobby and I hatched this plan to, well…. I guess that's another story for another time. Yessir, Schultz didn't used to be my friend. Heck, I guess Colonel Hogan's the reason he became one of the best men in our army.

You see, not long after we all ended up in Stalag 13, our dear home away from home, Hogan got to thinking how we could still fight the war even though we're POWs. He said spies work really hard to get into the inner workings of the Axis powers and here we were sitting in the middle of Germany. The first step in our spy organization was to make Klink look good. The best way to do that was to stop all escape operations. That was hard, boy. Hogan could order it but I had to enforce it! Well, not just me. Hogan picked me on account of my knowledge of chemistry and bombs, Kinch 'cause he was a trustworthy man that knew a lot about radios, Le Beau because he's a little spitfire and heck the fact that he could cook helped a lot too, and Newkirk because, well. Newkirk could do just about anything you asked him to, legal or otherwise. But our operation hadn't really took off yet. We needed someone who could cover for us, and wouldn't report anything he saw or heard.

One afternoon LeBeau was working on making some apple strudel for me. I asked him if he could make some. I missed my ma's cooking from home, escecially her strudel. It took awhile for me to convince him to cook a German dessert (I had to give him my whole Red Cross package) and finding all the ingredients took even longer. But he was finally able to put it all together and was busy making it when Schultz barged in the door.

"Achtung!"

I set down the letter I was reading and came to attention along with everyone else in the room. Colonel Hogan came out of his office.

Schultz marched over to Le Beau. "What are you doing? No cooking in the barracks! This is verboten!"

"I'm making apple strudel," Le Beau hesitantly offered.

"Apple strudel?" A strange look flickered in Schultz's eyes. "I must inspect it." He grabbed a fork off our table and took a heaping bite from the pan. He then closed his eyes and chewed. His face softened as he munched and then swallowed. His eyes snapped open with a definitive look. "I am confiscating this! No cooking in the barracks!" He scooped up the pan and strode out of the building without a backward glance.

"He took my strudel!" I moaned looking at the empty stove.

"Filthy boche!" LeBeau spat.

Hogan thoughtfully scratched his head. "Who was that guard?"

"Oh, just Corporal Schultz, another one of the goons." Kinch answered.

"Corporal Schultz," Hogan grinned. "But he has a weakness."

That was the start of Operation Baby Bear. In short, we were cuddling up to Schultz. He was the most likely candidate for a number of reasons:

He was an older guard, not like those brain washed kids that the Hitler Youth was spitting out into the world. And as far as we could tell, he didn't care much for Mr. Hitler.

As far as his work ethics went, we noticed pretty quickly he didn't have any. He just tried to keep his head down, do his job and not make waves.

He loved to eat. That much was apparent from his size. But he seemed to have a weakness for LeBeau's strudel.

So Louis started making strudel every few weeks for the sole purpose of letting Schultz confiscate it. Every time that big lug got a whiff of something cooking in our Barracks he followed it like my brother's hound follows the scent of a rabbit. It took a bit of coaxing but eventually he would sit at our table and eat the strudel accompanied by some "good strong American coffee" from our Red Cross packages.

Now that I think of it, getting Schultz to stick around is kinda what I did for my pet mouse Felix. You see Felix would stick his nose out of his hole when we were eating. I first noticed it a couple of months ago. I started leaving crumbs at the entrance to his house which he would gobble up. I started moving the crumbs farther and farther away from his hole see, and let him get comfortable with me. Now every time he hears me coming Felix will run out and eat bread out of my hand. That's what we did with Schultz. We had to get him used to our presence. So I did what I did with Felix: I talked to him.

"Hiya Schultz" I sat down beside the big guard as he was stuffing himself with strudel.

"Carter," he took a big gulp of coffee.

I noticed a gold band on his left hand. "Your wife ever cook as good as this?"

"Please," Schultz said between bites. "Don't mention my wife while I'm eating."

"Why not?" Newkirk sat down beside me.

"She cooks terribly and let's just forget about her alright?"

"Here Schultz," I picked up his cup. "Let me pour you some more coffee."

"Danke. Why are you all being so nice to me?"

"No reason we can't be nice to each other, even if we are enemies," Newkirk answered.

"That's right," I gave Schultz back his coffee. "I always say if you can't help folks in wartime, when can you?"

The German nodded thoughtfully, "That's true."

You know I think Barracks 2 became a refuge for Schultz. Klink wasn't always very nice to him but we never judged him. The prisoners were always willing to listen and sympathize with their guard's misfortunes. Colonel Hogan even talked him into letting us have poker nights to let off a little steam. And get this- Schultz loves to gamble! We had to let him win of course to keep him coming back but as he became more and more comfortable with us he became more willing to help us.

"Hey Schultz," Kinch asked him one night in the smoke filled casino of Barracks 2. "Do you think you could help me out?"

"What kind of help?" Schultz asked absentmindedly studying his cards.

"Oh, I was hoping of starting a betting pool on some baseball games. The World Series is coming up you know."

"How will we know what the scores are?"

"You think Klink would let us listen to his radio?"

"The Kommandant?" Schultz chuckled. "Never."

"Oh," Kinch looked down at his feet. "Never mind then."

I could see the gears grinding in Schultz's head. "Well, maybe if I brought you your own radio…"

"Would you?" Kinch's face lit up. "That'd be great!"

Schultz nodded laying down some cards. "I'll see what I can do."

True to his word a few days later Schultz visited us with a small radio hidden under his overcoat, and received a three-course meal from LeBeau as a reward. Now we had a radio to listen to the BBC, but no transmitter to get in touch with anyone. Kinch said he would work on that and in the mean time Colonel Hogan had us dig. Golly did we dig! We started under Kinch and LeBeau's bunk and made a tunnel well into the woods. But that was only the beginning. I never thought that joining the army would turn me into a gopher, but it just about did.

See, Hogan thought that spying wouldn't be enough. We needed to be able to get information to England, sure, but what about people? Every so often boys from other camps would escape only to be shot or scooped back up into another Stalag. Wouldn't it be nice, the Colonel said, if we could help our fellow POWs by becoming a little way station for them. You know, sort of like traveler's aid. We'd take them in, hide them and when the heat was off send them on their way back to England. I thought this was a little ambiscious of the colonel, but seeing how everything else he put his mind to seemed to turn out all right I decided to go along with it.

While me and the other boys were digging, Newkirk and LeBeau were given the task of collecting and making as much clothing, passes and identification cards as humanly possible. Newkirk swiped samples of ID cards from Klink's office while LeBeau worked on getting some material for clothing from Schultz.

"Winter is coming you know, Schultz," LeBeau mentioned one afternoon while Schultz was guzzling down some more of our coffee. "I got awfully cold the other night. Do you think you could get me some more blankets for me and the other men?"

"I don't know," Schultz pulled out a hankie and wiped off his mustache. "You know the quartermaster, he doesn't like to just hand things out."

"I'll make you some strudel."

"I'll bring them tomorrow."

So between Newkirk's fingers and Schultz's belly our operation was off to a good start. By this time we'd dug tunnels to other barracks, Klink's office, and were starting one to Klink's quarters. General Burkhalter had also given a personal commendation to Klink. Things were looking up. But then, wouldn't you know it, the Gestapo showed up. Major Hochstetter had heard about Stalag 13's miraculous turn around and got suspicious. I don't think he ever liked Klink to begin with, and the fact that he had suddenly become a model Kommandant got Hochstetter interested.

Now, I've met some Gestapo officers in my time, but none of them were quite like Major Hochstetter. Passion for his work and a quick temper, he was a swastika time bomb. I'd heard about him, but the first time I saw him was that chilly November day when he pulled up in front of Klink's office. He was wearing all black with slicked back black hair and beady little eyes. Above his permanently scowling mouth was a little mustache, though not the kind that Hitler wore. He glanced around quickly and stomped into the building.

We had yet to install our coffee pot tap on Klink's office, so I was sent over to Klink's to "tidy up the outer office." Helga gladly put me to work, so while dusting the filing cabinets I listened to the explosive conversation inside.

"Major, let me express once again what an honor it is to have you at Stalag 13." Klink's whiny voice could be heard loud and clear through the wall.

"Klink, sit down."

"Yes sir, sit down," the creak of a chair told he had obeyed the Major.

"Klink, you have been Kommandant here for a year now."

"Yessir, and what an honor it has been."

"Yet the escapes and attempted escapes continued until six months ago. Now they have suddenly stopped. Why?"

"Well major, I have put a new security measure into place."

"Klink I'm seen your idea of security. I'm not impressed."

"Major, I promise you I will see to it that the guard at the gate will be severely punished!"

"A drunken guard asleep at his post doesn't concern me at the moment. What concerns me is that there is a large escape attempt in the works right under your nose."

"Impossible!" A bang on Klink's desk. "I mean it might be possible. What do you want me to do?"

"You will do nothing. I will search the camp." Hochstetter stormed past me and slammed the door on his way out.

"Fraulein Helga?" a shaky voice called out. "Could you come here?"

I scooted away, leaving the dust rag on her desk.

Hochstetter and his men were already busy by the time I got back to the barracks. They were searching Barracks 1 and 4, working their way towards us.

"They're looking for an escape tunnel." Hogan commented, peering out the window.

I nodded, "They think we've got something in the works."

"It's my fault," Hogan said scanning our crew. "I stopped the escape attempts too quickly, of course they got suspicious."

"It's ok, mon Colonel," LeBeau reassured. "Everything is hidden."

"They'll have a right 'ard time finding anything Colonel," Newkirk added.

"No," Hogan said slowly, a crease appearing on his forehead. "I think something will be found. But not by the Gestapo."

I remember one time when I was growing up I found a stray dog wandering the streets of Bullfrog, North Dakota. He was one of those dogs that was a little of this and a little of that. I think he had some collie in him and maybe some shepherd. I fell in love with him right away. My mom wouldn't have a dog in the house, I knew. So I decided to surprise her by sneaking him inside and showing her how good owning a dog could be. My mom was out at Aunt Martha's so I snuck the dog who I'd named Sammy, into the kitchen and worked on getting him some chow. While he sniffed around I got out some milk and cookies for myself. Was it my fault Sammy stood on his hind legs and knocked over the milk? I ran to get something to clean it up with and when I got back Sammy had finished the milk and cookies and was helping himself to my mom's apple pie she'd set on the counter to cool. I pulled him away and into my room to wait for my folks while I cleaned up the mess. How was I to know he pushed my door open and wandered into my parent's room? By the time my mom came home, he'd managed to break, tear or ruin at least one thing in every room. There was a trail of feathers from a ripped pillow down the hall, scratch marks on almost all the doors, stuffing pulled out of the sofa, drapes torn and pulled down, chair legs knawed, walls marked and a present under my dad's arm chair (though we didn't find until a few days later).

And yet with all his destruction, the Gestapo made Sammy look like an angel. By the time Hochstetter's gang had finished with Barracks 2 the mattresses were torn, floor busted, tables and chairs overturned, Colonel Hogan's office was a wreck, Felix was scared stiff and my poster of Rita Hayworth was nearly torn. But with all that mess, they had come up empty handed.

Hochstetter was not pleased.

"Klink, I know this camp is hiding something," he growled stepping into his car. "I will be watching you. Make one false move and heads will roll!"

We were happy to be rid of Hochstetter. Klink gave a sigh of relief when he drove out the main gate. But now the real work began.

If you recall when we built a snowman with a tunnel over it Hogan said the only Barracks we don't have a tunnel to is Barracks 4. So you folks might have been wondering why that is. That wasn't really on oversight on our part. Heck, I think there's no place in camp we haven't tunneled to. Barracks 4 was actually the location of our first operation. But it ended in such a way that it had to be filled in.

You see, we had to make Schultz look good. We'd given him love and food now it was time to give him responsibility. It wasn't easy, as you might imagine, making someone who didn't care who won the war look better than the Gestapo. But by golly, we did it.

It all started one moonless night, me and Newkirk broke into the camp kitchen. Newkirk later bragged that the lock was no easy to pick he could have done it with one hand and blindfolded. I figure that's because no one considered the kitchen worth guarding!

Anyhow, once in, Newkirk grabbed a few food stuffs here and there, while I piled my arms high with loaves of bread. We stumbled to Barracks 5 and I must admit I might've dropped a few loaves on the way there.

But no matter because a little while later in lumbered Schultz, there for the second midnight snack of the evening. Now, I don't think there was a person in camp that knew that kitchen as well as Schultz. Not even the cook. The man knew when his food had been rifled through. And wouldn't you know it there was a bread loaf trail leading right to Barracks 5!

Suspicious, Schultz followed.

When he opened the door, we were waiting for him. LeBeau was just getting ready to crawl into the tunnel entrance in the floor while other milled around holding sacks and holding a few food items.

Well, as blind as Schultz was, even he could see this was an escape attempt. "Halt!" he shouted pointing his rifle at us. "Everybody get back from the tunnel! Back back back back!"

Sirens started howling, dogs barking, guards yelling, gollly what a racket! But we played our part beautifully. Hands up, stand against the wall as Klink inspected the tunnel and slapped Schultz on the back.

"Schultz, I knew from the moment I met you that you would be a top-notch guard! I would like to promote you to Sergeant and have you supervise all security measures in the camp." Klink beamed as he looked over the tunnel. "How did you know there was an escape happening?"

"I just had a feeling Herr Komandant, in my uh," Schultz put a hand on his belly, "gut."

"Schultz, soldiers like you and me are born, not made." Klink put his arm around Schultz shoulder.

"That is true Herr Kommandant," Schultz said stuffing his pockets with as many pieces of bread as they could hold.

"You know something?" Hogan piped up from the corner. "I think this is the start of a beautiful imprisonment."

And that's how it all began. Hochstetter showed up the next day, furious that Schultz had caught something that he and his men had missed. Naturally that only enlarged Klink's already oversized ego. I don't think Hochstetter ever forgot that a roly-poly guard had bested him.

Without Schultz, and for that matter, without Klink, none of our missions would have been possible. The men we rescued and those we captured, the things we blew up and those that we recovered, our forgeries, travels, schemes, and exploits, none of that would be possible without our lovable, old, bumbling Schultz.


End file.
